hashtag summer 2012
by MadiYasha
Summary: Tambry recounts her night with the crew.


It's 2 AM and this room is literally the epitome of a sweltering cesspool of sausage fest and hormones.

Nate and Lee entered the household as a unit at approximately midnight. Since then, their entire role in this clusterfuck has consisted of them a.) hastily plugging in Thompson's ethernet cables to their high-speed laptops b.) whining after about 15 minutes about it and c.) venturing into the garage to find the wifi box, get the password, type it into a word document and finally connect. They're now sitting back to back on the floor, their heads leaning together in a smitten embrace as they lay against the foot of Thompson's bed, playing TF2-both as Medics-and refusing to heal Thompson who is actually about to throw his Nutella-smothered waffle at them.

Thompson puts the waffle down, gets a glint in his eye, leans back and says out loud . "Guys, I just had the greatest idea." He's had "the greatest idea" at least a couple hundred times over the course of his human lifespan. "Create a certain kind of dust in the air that you could see and breathe without it harming you in any way. Make it glow in the dark and turn fans on. Turn off lights, watch the wind currents in your room as the glowing dust flows on them."

"I'll have what he's having." says Nate.

"I'll have two of what he's having." adds Lee. The exchange is unamusing, and to be expected.

On Thompson's bed there's a dull rhythm of lips wetly smacking together that has at this point become dull background noise. Robbie and Wendy think they're being totally stealthy about playing the tonsil hockey world cup on the corner of the room under the covers. Everyone knows his hand is on her boob. Lee periodically turns around and shoots lumberjack-related puns at Wendy and has earned a reward in the form of a beautiful bruise on the back of his head from her bare, calloused foot.

This floor is uncomfortable and I don't like the colour of the walls, but at least the wifi is nice.

It's 3 AM and everyone's out in Thompson's massive yard staring at the stars above. It's hot and a little humid out but everyone's curled up onto a blanket content with life for the most part. Lee's suddenly running into the kitchen and he and Nate come out with bags of marshmallows and chocolate bars and graham crackers and start whining about how they want s'mores, so Thompson sighs and goes to get a lighter for the fire pit and makes a comment about how the fire wood's in the shed and now Wendy's throwing it on the ground and excitedly waiting for him to come back out.

The fire dully illuminates everyone and Wendy's tending to it like it's her child.

Nate's marshmallow catches on fire, Lee and him race to see who can melt theirs the fastest.

Robbie's on his 14th s'more. He's laying on the grass having an existential crisis and laughing about a stray cat that Thompson periodically feeds. Wendy's burying her face in her hands and begging the others, _don't give him anymore sugar_ she says. _He gets __**weird**__,_ she says. Robbie takes off his gloves and throws them at the fence and when Thompson asks him if he's okay he just whimpers "everything happens so much."

Someone puts the fire out and everyone heads back inside. There's actually marshmallow fluff on my keypad. I don't like this.

The routine resumes as previously mentioned. The boys switch to playing Left 4 Dead. Robbie shifts uncomfortably and hides in his hoodie. He's always been disenchanted by zombie games.

Wendy's petting his hair and whispering 'I love you's at him and he looks a lot less upset now. They press their grotesquely chapped lips together and fall back onto Thompson's bed as they were before. My eyes make a desperate attempt to avert themselves but it's like a trainwreck and I don't want to stare but I can't look away. Lee waits for the moment when he's sure her hand is in his pants to lean back and ask him "how those calloused fingers feel on his axe."

Robbie's still kissing her when he flips Lee off, Wendy digs her heel back into his frizzy blonde locks. Thompson throws his headset on the ground and turns around.

"Why don't they just take water proof jackets and electric blankets and combine them? You would never have to be cold or wet ever again!"

Nate is literally using Lee as a pillow at this point, in an awkward kind of flop with his laptop raised on his stomach. "Thompson, shut up."

Thompson's stale Nutella waffle flies at Nate's face. The circle of stupidity is complete.

It's 4:30 AM, the sun is peaking over the horizon, and the room is a lot less humid and terrible.

Nate and Lee are long gone, fallen asleep tangled in each other god knows when. The result is several new followers on Instagram. #my actual teenage life #fat gays #swagg

Thompson's computer is set on a loop of one of his many .swf files set to techno music. He's on the floor next to the boys, staring at his ceiling and piled in blankets. "You know what the world needs? LED ceilings."

Robbie takes his tongue out of Wendy's throat for half a second to yell "Dude, just stop. Just let the sleepy train take you away to dreamville. Do this for me, Thompson, I thought we were friends."

He complies and rolls over. Wendy and Robbie share one last kiss and she falls asleep in his arms as he's clinging to her like a child. There's always been skepticism among the group on if they'd ever last past a day, but it's been a while now, and we're all in agreement that they're a disgusting little couple who fit in perfectly with our dumb cliche lives.

My eyes are barely open and this has been a good night and I think I might actually put my phone down for a while and learn to admire my friends and make memories without the aid of various amateur photography filters.

...Nah.

3 xXTambryXx


End file.
